Gerhard Human

Cape Town based illustrator Gerhard Human effortlessly captures the rebellious nature of contemporary skate and rock and roll culture. The cast of characters that inhabit his work are defined by a border stroke that continuously ripples and never settles into a straight line; consequentially infusing these spirits with a palpable energy.

  1. T-shirt design for the Mingo Lamberti Pawnshop series, 2014
  2. from the Outstanding Citizens series, Limited Edition Prints for Those Who Wander Exhibition, 2014
  3. from the Outstanding Citizens series, Limited Edition Prints for Those Who Wander Exhibition, 2014
  4. from the Outstanding Citizens series, Limited Edition Prints for Those Who Wander Exhibition, 2014
  5. Kabuki Samurai, Limited Edition Print of 15 for “Those Who Wander” exhibition, 2014
  6. Rock and Roll have messed my mind up, Ink and Acrylic on Hahnemeuhle Bamboo paper. 700mm x 1000mm. Beechwood Frame. Original drawings for “One in a Million” Exhibition at Salon91 in Cape Town, 2014
  7. Disorder & Disarray, Limited Edition print on Hahnemeuhle German Etching paper, 2014, images posted with permission of the artist.

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The Java Song of J Alfred Prufrock

Recently, a fellow grad student wrote this lovely version of T. S. Eliot’s “The Love Song of J Alfred Prufrock."  I hope you take a moment or two to read it… it’s great!

The Java Song of J Alfred Prufrock

Let us go then, you and I,
When the mid-day is spread out against the sky
Like a grad student napping upon a desk;
Let us go, through certain half-deserted hallways,
The muttering retreats
Of restless nights of all-night Jackson sets
And chalkdust offices with coffee cups:
Sheets that follow with tedious arguments
Of insidious intent
To lead you to an overwhelming question …
Oh, do not ask, "Why am I in grad school?”
Let us go and make our visit.

In the room the astros come and go
Talking of Galileo.

The mocha grog that rubs its back upon the coffee mugs,
The mocha drink that rubs its muzzle on the coffee mugs
Licked its tongue and prepares to fight the evening,
Lingered upon by grads that stand in line,
Let fall upon its back the creamer that falls from bottles,
Slipped by the front teeth, made a sudden leap,
And seeing that it was a hazy November afternoon,
Swirled once about the mouth, and fell into the deep.

And indeed there will be time
For the mocha drink to cool off while you eat,
Resting your back upon the window-panes;
There will be time, there will be time
To prepare a face to meet your Q later this week;
There will be time to murmur as you grade,
And time for all your works and days of hands
That lift and drop dumb questions on your plate;
Time for you and time for me,
And time yet for a hundred indecisions,
And for a hundred paper submissions and revisions,
While no one ever seems to drink the tea.

In the room the astros come and go
Talking of Galileo.

And indeed there will be time
To wonder, “Do I dare?” and, “Do I dare?”
To grab a bagel and descend the stairs,
Or ignore that odd spot in the middle of that chair–
[They will say: “What is it he is sitting in!?”]
With cream cheese coat, my bagel rises quickly to the chin,
My donut rich and modest, glazed and jelly within–
[They will say: “But how does he stay so thin!”]
Do I dare
Contemplate the universe?
In a minute there is time
For decisions and revisions which my advisor will reverse.

For I have known them all already, known them all:–
Have known the evenings, mornings, afternoons,
I have measured out grad life with coffee spoons;
I know the voices trying just down the hall
Beneath the music as my headphones boom.
So how should I presume?

And I have known the i’s already, known them all–
The i’s that fix you in a complicated phase,
And when I have so formulated, vortices herein pinned,
Once they are pinned, now written on the wall,
Then how should I begin
To spit out all the dead-ends of grad student ways?
And how should I presume?

And I have read the articles already, read them all–
Articles that are bracketed and dense and square
[But in the lamplight, drowned in my dispair!]
Is it the research done at CHESS
That makes me so digress?
Articles that lie along my table, that lay about in sprawl.
And should I then presume?
And how should I begin?
… . .
Shall I say, I have stayed past dusk and read these sheets
When instead I watched some youtube vids and skyped
With other grads in PSB, learning without windows? …

I should have been a business student
Scuttling across the floors of HSBC.

… . .

And the afternoon, but not the evening, I sleep so peacefully!
Smoothed by long fingers,
Asleep … tired … but I’ll not malinger,
There are stains on the floor, here beside you and me.
Should I, after coffee and grapes and donuts,
Have the strength to work for even one more moment?
But though I have wept and fasted, wept and prayed,
Though I have seen my head [grown slightly bald] filled up with useless patter,
I am no prof yet–and here’s no great matter;
I have seen the moment of my greatness flicker,
And I have seen Csabi Csaki grade my exam, and snicker,
And in short, I was afraid.

And would it have been worth it, after all,
After the cups, the espressos, the tea,
Among faux porcelain, among some talk of high TC,
Would it have been worth while,
To have bitten of a bagel with a smile,
To have squeezed grad student life into a ball
To roll it toward some undeserving question,
To say: “I am Feynman come from the dead
Come back to tell you all, I shall tell you all”–
If your advisor, getting “that look” and tilting their head,
Should say: “That is not what is right at all.
That is not it, at all.”

And would it have been worth it, after all,
Would it have been worth while,
After the sunsets and the boredom and the sprinkled donuts,
After the novels, after the NSF aps, after holiday party skits that are generally just a bore–
And this, and so much more?–
It is impossible to say just what I mean!
But as if a Henley overhead threw the nerves in patterns on a screen:
Would it have been worth while
If your advisor, muttering softly as you walk out in the hall,
And turning toward their window, should say:
“That is not it at all,
That is not what is right, at all.”

… . .

No! I am not Einstein nor was meant to be;
Am an above average grad, one that will do
To write a PRB, start a Science or two,
arXiv preprints; no doubt, an easy tool,
Deferential, grad to be of use,
Distracted, but cautious, and meticulous;
Full of higher education, but a bit obtuse
At times, indeed, almost ridiculous–
Almost, at times, the Fool.

I grow old …I grow old …
I shall gladly take half that jelly roll.

What’s with this new fruit, PGS? Do I dare to eat a peach?
It’s already mid-November, this fruit is… aged, and that’s a reach.
I have heard reviewers singing, each to each.

I do not think that they will sing to me.

I have seen them writing corrections, sent out in waves
Bombing the authors who are now blown back
With their minds busy the revisions fall to Zach.

We shall linger in the lounges of the grads
By carafes filled with a hot liquid (to fix our frown)
That PGS has made us, and it’s brown.

R. Z. Lamberty




    A Balloon coffee table by Christopher Duffy.

    Metal resin composite, steel brass and toughened glass Made exclusively for Lamberty


    Height: 45cm
    Width: 120cm
    Depth: 45cm


    Limited edition of 20.

    Britain, 2013


    Christopher Duffy for Lamberty

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